Rebirth
by ChelsieLynn
Summary: Pietro Maximoff should be dead. But instead he wakes up, confused and in a world of pain, in a strange medical facility he's never seen before. He's greeted by Dr. Alexa Jane Short, a SHIELD research physician. She explains to him that he's a medical marvel and she's been put in charge of helping him recover. But will she help him more than just by healing his broken body?
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I'm baaaaaack, haha. Oh it's been too long. I've had this written for a while now but was stuck with where to go from here. I have some ideas so I decided to upload and start working on this again. My other stories haven't been updated in FOREVER and I'll try and be updating them soon. Aaaaand I have an idea for another story... but anyways, here's this one...**

 **It's a story about Pietro's journey from the brink of death. I know it's been done a lot but give my version a chance :) It's set in Pietro's POV post Age of Ultron and through Civil War. I'm still pretty new with the plot line for this story so updates for this may come slowly. Couple of disclaimers next...**

 **Disclaimer 1: All my knowledge of Marvel/Pietro comes from the movies, not the comics.**

 **Disclaimer 2: Yes, my story's co-star is an OC; don't like it, then don't read it.**

 **Disclaimer 3: I own nothing besides my OC. Pietro, the Avengers, and all other concepts related are property of Marvel.**

 **Hope you enjoy! :) Please read, review, and follow!**

* * *

Rebirth

Chapter 1: Waking Up

His body felt like it was on fire. Everything hurt. It hurt just to breathe. He had a raging headache. He was afraid to open his eyes.

But he didn't remember. He didn't know where he was. The last thing that came to mind was running in front of the archer, the one called Hawkeye. And then… nothing.

He had to open his eyes and figure out where he was. Where his sister was.

He took a deep breath, even though it made his chest sear with pain, and he steeled himself to open his eyes.

Everything was so bright white it hurt to look. He was laying in a bed of some kind with a thin stark white blanket covering him. It was then he realized he was naked save for some gauze wrapped around his chest and back. There was a table next to him with an EKG beeping along with his heart beat.

He looked further around the room and realized he wasn't alone. There was a woman in the room with him. She was wearing a white lab coat that fell to her knees. The embroidery above her breast pocket said _Dr. A. J. Short._ She looked over and her eyes widened when she saw he was awake. Their eyes locked for a moment. He tried to sit up.

Dr. Short rushed to the side of his bed and placed a hand on his shoulder, gently urging him back into the bed. Her hand was cool against his bare skin. He allowed her to push him back into his pillows but began to open his mouth to speak.

"Pietro, please," the doctor interrupted. Her voice was soft and gentle but Pietro Maximoff, otherwise known as Quicksilver, could tell she was excited. "I know you must be confused but please rest. You've been in a coma for a month. Your body needs to recover. I promise all of your questions will be answered once you're up to it. But please, sleep now." She pulled a syringe out of her pocket and palpated a vein on the inside of his arm.

Pietro was too weak and confused to fight.

She pierced his skin and slid the needle into a vein. "My name is Alexa Jane Short. We'll talk again soon." The doctor depressed the plunger and Pietro felt his eyelids grow heavy. He blinked twice, focusing on her face, determined not to fall asleep but his mind clouded over and he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

The next time Pietro woke up he wasn't in so much pain. It was more of a dull throbbing ache. His headache was gone and his head was clearer than it had been the last time he was awake. He vaguely remembered the doctor who had greeted him when he first awoke. _Her name was Dr. Short._ Pietro pushed himself up on his elbows to look around the room. A shock of his white-blonde hair fell into his face. Pietro didn't remember his bangs being this long. Had he really been out of it long enough for his hair to grow down into his face? He blew his hair to the side and looked down at himself. His chest was still bare save for a sheet of gauze wrapped around his torso. His muscles had wasted a bit and his runner's physique looked more like a lean teenager. Pietro fully sat up and a bolt of pain went down his back. He inhaled sharply and closed his eyes. Gingerly, he reached around and blindly felt along the gauze wrapping his back. When he drew his hand forward, his fingers were sticky with congealing blood. Looking down at his blood stained fingers, Pietro remembered the archer again.

His name was Hawkeye; at least that was what HYDRA called him. He had abandoned the rescue ship to save a child left behind. Ultron had opened fire. Pietro remembered seeing the archer shield the boy with his body and how his own body had acted before his mind processed what he was doing. He ran towards them, faster than bullets flying through the air. The next memory was nothing but pain. Excruciating, agonizing, searing pain. He remember mumbling, "You did not see that coming?" before everything went dark.

The next thing he remembered was the doctor's face.

 _I died_ , Pietro thought. He looked down at his hands again. _How am I here? How am I alive?_ He turned his hands before his face as if seeing them for the first time. He knew the type of medical experiments HYDRA was capable of. Had they taken his body after the battle and rebuilt him like they had the Winter Soldier? Pietro shuddered at the thought. His eyes had been opened to what HYDRA truly was.

But that doctor. She didn't seem HYDRA. Her face had been kind and she was gentle when she urged him back in bed.

 _Where am I?_ Pietro wondered. He looked around the room. There were medical instruments lining the walls. Most of them were off but he had a feeling they had been connected to his body not too long ago. The room was sterile white, every surface sparkling clean. Large sliding glass doors made up the wall across from him, a hospital curtain pulled halfway along the panes of glass. Pietro searched his mind for memories of when he and Wanda were in the HYDRA facility receiving their enhancements. That place was nothing like this; it had been more like a dungeon.

Wanda. His sister. _She must think me dead._ Pietro's stomach turned just thinking about it. They were all each other had. He couldn't imagine leaving her alone; the pain she must feel believing him dead.

And then a worse thought crossed his mind. _What if_ she _is dead?_

Pietro swung his legs over the side of his hospital bed. His legs were thin and pale. Just as he was about to place his bare feet on the cold linoleum of the hospital floor, a 'whoosh' signaled the opening of the glass doors at the other end of the room. Pietro turned his head and saw the female doctor pushing aside the curtain as she entered the room.

Again her eyes widened when she saw him, as if she was surprised he was awake.

"Pietro," she said. Her voice was quiet and gentle. She had an American accent. She held up her palms in a sign of peace. "Please, you are still too weak." She began walking towards him.

He pulled his legs back into the bed and pulled the stiff hospital blanket back over his legs and up to his waist.

"Where am I?" He was shocked at how hoarse his voice was, as if he hadn't spoken in ages.

Gingerly, almost nervously, the doctor perched herself on the very edge of the foot of his hospital bed. "You're in a rehabilitation facility," she said without really answering his question. "There's a lot that has happened. Please, let me get you something to eat and I promise I will tell you everything."

Pietro watched as she stood and crossed the room, pressing an intercom button on the wall beside his bed. His eyes followed her as she moved to his bedside table and picked up a tablet. She ran a finger along the screen, her bright blue eyes scanning through what he assumed were his medical records.

"Who are you?" His voice was still heavy. "Why do I sound like this?"

The doctor opened her mouth to answer but was interrupted by the 'whoosh' of the door. A younger woman dressed in blindingly white scrubs walked into the room with a tray of food. She set it on the bedside table and left just as quickly as she had come.

It was then Pietro realized how hungry he was. But years of working with HYDRA had made him wary of strange people bearing food. He would wait to eat until this doctor explained things to him.

As if sensing this, the doctor rolled her eyes but seemed more amused than annoyed. "God, I hate working for spies and secret agencies. You're all so suspicious." The doctor put a hand on her hip and with the other, plucked a piece of fruit from Pietro's plate and ate it. "No poison. No drugs." She swallowed. "Eat. You've been in a coma for a month."

Pietro jammed half a banana into his mouth. "Who are you?" he mumbled around his mouth full of food.

"My name is Dr. Alexa Jane Short." The doctor perched at the end of his bed again. "I'm SHIELD's lead research physician."

Hearing the word SHIELD made Pietro looked up at her.

"After the battle with Ultron, your body was brought here to SHIELD's medical facility. I was in charge of you autopsy. But you weren't dead. I had just begun to open your chest cavity when I saw that you were still breathing. Your heart was still beating. It was astonishing. Your respirations were so slow and shallow you shouldn't have been alive. Same with your heartbeat. Add that to the wounds you sustained, there was no possible way you should have been alive. I hooked you up to a brain monitor and you were cognitively intact despite being in some type of a coma I had never seen before. I fully expected you to die within the next few days but you didn't. Your body began to show signs of regeneration, healing. It was amazing.

"For the next few weeks I studied your body. It seemed your body had somehow shut itself down except for the most basic life-sustaining functions while you healed yourself. That wasn't entirely surprising. Many enhanced individuals have similar defense mechanisms. Captain America, for example. He was in a similar state when he was brought here after being found in the ice. But still, your wounds were fatal regardless of the fact that your body went into survival mode. Multiple bullet wounds through each lung, the amount of blood you'd already lost. But somehow you were still alive.

"We examined the cells at the borders of your wounds and saw that their metabolic rate was a thousand times that of a normal cell. The way they were replicating allowed your wounds to begin to heal at a phenomenal rate. Thanks to your increased metabolism, what should have killed a normal man simply put you in a coma-like sleep, therefore giving your body time to regenerate. We all regenerate during sleep but most of us don't come back from the verge of death. You're a miracle really."

Pietro had finished his banana while the doctor talked. His head was spinning. He didn't understand a lot of what she'd said, but he knew enough to know he shouldn't be sitting here, alive, right now. It was a strange feeling; knowing you were supposed to be dead. But he could deal with that later. As usual, he was more concerned about his sister.

Looking Dr. Short in the eye, he asked, "Where is my sister? Wanda?"

The doctor's eyes fell to her lap and she bit her lip. Pietro feared the worst.

"Unfortunately, I can't tell you." Dr. Short looked back up him, her eyes sad.

"Is she…" Pietro swallowed, "Is she dead?"

"Oh no!" Dr. Short said quickly. "No, no, no. Don't worry. She just…." Dr. Short paused as if she was unsure what she should say next. She took a breath to steady herself and started over. "Your sister is fine. We can't tell you where she is right now. Things have been pretty crazy since Sokovia fell out of the sky. Dr. Banner is missing, the Avengers have reformed, the U.S. government is organizing a strike force against gifted individuals. A lot has happened Pietro, until we know you've fully recovered, it's best you stay here, away from the real world."

Pietro's head was swimming more than ever. He had no idea what Dr. Short was talking about besides Sokovia falling from the sky. He sighed with frustration and balled his hands into fists, dropping them down on the bed.

Dr. Short reached across and placed one of her hands on his. Her skin was soft and warm against his; he didn't realize how cold he was. He looked up at her and she gave him a small smile. "I know this must be hard for you. A lot has happened. I'll tell you everything in time. And when you're better, you'll see you sister. But for now you need rest." Dr. Short withdrew her hand and stood up. "Just relax. Know you're safe here. Your sister's safe too."

Dr. Short turned and began to walk towards the door.

"Wait!" Pietro said. He didn't want her to go. He didn't want to be alone with his thoughts.

The doctor stopped and turned to look back at him, an eyebrow raised questioningly.

"I… um… where am I?" He asked.

"SHIELD's medical research facility. We're tucked away in the Swiss Alps, hidden safely away." Dr. Short nodded towards a purple button implanted into the wall beside Pietro's bed. "That button is a direct link to my office. If you need anything, let me know." With a final smile, Dr. Short turned and left the room. After a 'whoosh' from the doors, Pietro was left in silence.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Dressing

Pietro sat in his bed, feeling numb all over. He should be… was _supposed_ to be dead. But he wasn't. This was the second time he had escaped death. The first when he was a child and that Stark missile hit his home. Now this. Pietro rubbed his temples with his first two fingers, trying to fight off the headache he knew was coming. Too much information in too little time. And he was still feeling weak, tired, and sore. He looked over at the tray of food on the rolling table the nurse had pulled up to his bed. He was too stunned to eat much beside the banana while Dr. Short was talking to him. Now he surveyed what was left on the tray. It was mostly light stuff, designed not to upset his stomach too much after 30 plus days without solid food. There was a variety of fruits, a little bit of cheese and nuts for protein, some bread that smelled fresh, and a tall pitcher of water. Pietro's mouth watered at the sight of it, reminding him again how hungry he was. He felt like he could eat the whole thing in seconds. But he knew better. He had been in a coma for a month. Eating too much too fast would just make him sick. He reached for the bread and slowly began eating.

Over the next two hours, he slowly ate the entirety of his meal. While he ate, Pietro looked around the room, getting a better look at his surroundings. His hospital bed was fitted with crisp white sheets. Immediately to his left, there was an array of medical instruments with cords hanging off them ending in attachments that he knew must have been connected to his skin not so long ago. Along the left wall was a waist high counter with various medical supplies. A rolling doctor's stool was tucked underneath and a cabinet with drawers was on the end. The right wall was bare, with the exception of a rather uncomfortable looking chair in the corner where the right wall connected with the back. Between his bed and the chair was an orange sharps container, the black biohazard symbol a glaring contrast to the pristine whiteness of his room. Across from Pietro, the far wall was nothing but glass with the 'whooshing' door in the center. Hospital curtains were hanging from the ceiling here, pulled over most of the glass to give him some semblance of privacy. Finally, there was a small area jutting from the junction of the right wall and the glass. The area was walled off and the door leading to it was slightly ajar. It was dark inside but the blue sign depicting a toilet told Pietro this was his bathroom.

Pietro realized then how badly he needed to use the restroom. He shifted his blankets preparing to get up when he remembered he was naked save for the bandages wrapping around his chest and back. His eyes shifted to the glass wall before him. Though most of it was covered by the curtains, the door was unobscured and large enough to give anyone in the hall a good view of his naked body should he rise and walk to the restroom. Pietro's eyes made a pass over the room, looking for clothes.

The only clothes he'd have here would be the uniform he'd been brought here in. And judging by the wounds he could feel in his back, they had been blasted into Swiss cheese. He didn't see them in here anyway.

Surely there must be some type of hospital gown or something. His eyes landed on the set of drawers near the medical counter. They all had locks on them. Pietro doubted they'd be unlocked and he'd have to cross the room naked anyway to get there.

Looking out the glass door into the hallway once more, Pietro made up his mind. No one was out there and in the hours he'd been awake, the only person he'd seen was Dr. Short. Pietro shifted his legs under the blanket and swung them over the left side of the bed. Just that motion was painful. He steeled himself to stand up, his legs hanging over the bed, feet dangling just above the linoleum floor.

But then he thought better. He was still feeling so weak and pained. He doubted his legs would hold his body weight, despite however much his muscles must have atrophied during his coma. The last thing he wanted was to collapse naked on the floor for some nurse to find him later.

So instead, he turned his head to look behind him. Above the headboard of his hospital bed was a panel of light switches, a red button that paged the nurses station, a blue button that signaled he needed pain meds, and the purple button Dr. Short had indicated earlier; the one that was a direct link to her office. Pietro twisted, reaching around with his right arm. A searing pain flared up and down his spine, through his shoulder, and down his arm. He winced and grit his teeth. His finger hovered above the red button and then a second later he shifted his hand a depressed the purple button instead. It recessed into the wall and lit up with a purple light indicating his page had been sent.

Pietro twisted back around in his bed to face forward. The pain was ebbing now.

He wasn't sure why he hit the purple button instead of the red. Surely fetching him a hospital gown was below Dr. Short's status as a doctor. A nurse would have easily been able to help him. But Pietro still wasn't sure what kind of situation he had awoken into. And even though he didn't know her, he trusted Dr. Short.

A few minutes later, Pietro heard footsteps in the hallway. A moment after the sound reached his ears, he saw Dr. Short through the glass doorway. She was looking down at a mechanical lock that protruded from the door. She pressed her thumb against the scanner and Pietro heard a faint 'beep' as it registered her thumbprint. Then the doors 'whooshed' open. Dr. Short entered the room with the 'click-clack' of high heel shoes. In addition to wearing high heels, she had on her white lab coat that fell to just above her knees. It was unbuttoned to reveal a black dress shirt and a purple blouse.

 _The doctor must like purple._ Pietro thought.

When she had entered the room, Pietro looked up into the doctor's face. Her eyebrows were raised on her forehead in an expression of concern.

"Pietro, are you okay?" She asked.

Suddenly, Pietro felt embarrassed paging her here just for some clothes. He swallowed and said thickly, "I… um… would it be possible to get some clothes?"

Pietro saw Dr. Short instantly relax, her worried expression vanishing. "Oh, yes, of course!" She didn't seem at all bothered by his silly request.

Dr. Short 'clip-clopped' over to the locked cabinet and took a ring of keys from one of the deep pockets of her lab coat. She bent at the knees, crouching on her heeled feet above the last drawer. She unlocked it and pulled out a set of clothes similar to the stark white outfit the nurse who had brought him his food had been wearing. Instead, his clothes were the faintest shade of blue. "These should fit you," Dr. Short said. In a few steps, she crossed over to his bed and handed him the clothes.

Though the fabric was stiff, it was soft. Pietro dropped the outfit in his lap and unfolded the shirt. He pushed his hands through the sleeves then bunched up the material to pull over his head. He had raised his arms only half way up to his head when the searing pain returned across his back. He winced again, a sharp 'hiss' escaping between his teeth.

Dr. Short took half a step forward. "Oh, let's get you some more pain meds." She reached over his shoulder and pressed a button behind him. Then, he felt her hand fall onto his shoulder. "Here, Pietro, let me help you." It was said as more of a question than a statement.

Pietro nodded, his eyes still closed in pain.

He felt the doctor grab the bunched up area of his shirt, and lift it up towards his head. It still hurt, but not nearly as much as when he tried to do it himself. As she pulled the fabric over his head, he felt her hands brush against the hair on the back of his head. Gently, she pulled the shirt down around his neck and shoulders. Her fingers brushed the edges of his bandages as she slid the material down his torso. When the shirt was fully on, the doctor withdrew her hands and Pietro let out a sigh. It felt good to have the cloth against his skin, feeling its warmth. He didn't know he had been so cold. He had never really been cold before. His increased basal metabolic rate had always kept his body temperature a few degrees higher than normal.

Now that his shirt was on he looked down at the pants sitting in his lap. How in the world was he supposed to get those on when he had so much trouble just with the shirt. Pietro felt the doctor's eyes on him.

"I can help you with those too," she said. "Here, let's stand you up."

Pietro felt heat rise to his cheeks. If Dr. Short was going to help him put on pants, surely she'd see the parts of him he was careful to keep covered with his hospital blanket. But this was silly. She was a doctor. She said herself that she had only realized he was alive when she began performing an autopsy on him. Obviously he would have been naked for that. But he was still embarrassed.

As if sensing this, Dr. Short said, "It's okay, I won't look."

Pietro finally looked up and met Dr. Short's eyes. She had an ever so subtle flush to her own cheeks. Somehow, that reassured him. He nodded again and took a breath, readying himself to stand.

Dr. Short held out her arms, her gaze locked on his face, and Pietro placed his arms on top of hers. He gripped her upper arm, just above her elbow. She held on to him, her grip gentle but firm. Pietro briefly thought how ridiculous this was. The doctor was shorter than even his sister. And even though he must have lost a lot of weight during his coma from lost muscle mass, he still weighed more than the slim doctor in front of him. How was she going to support his weight?

But this needed to be done. So Pietro swung his legs off the bed and placed his bare feet on the cold linoleum. He planted his feet and then stood. His legs almost gave out at the knees, his legs weak and wobbly from disuse. But, Dr. Short braced him by the arms and in a moment, his legs were able to support his weight and he stood, albeit shakily, on his own.

Dr. Short released his arms and grabbed the pants from the bed. She closed her eyes and knelt down before him. Bunching up one of the pant legs, she said, "Brace yourself between me and the bed and then lift your foot."

Pietro nodded for a third time, though she couldn't see, her gaze was trained firmly on the ground. Pietro placed one hand on the doctor's right shoulder and the other on the mattress of his hospital bed. He raised his foot from the floor. Dr. Short slipped the bunched pant leg over his foot.

"Okay," she said, "now the other."

Pietro placed his foot back on the floor and raised the other. In a second, the other pant leg was over his foot and he was back to having both feet firmly on the floor. Dr. Short grabbed the waist band of the pants and began pulling them up. Her fingers brushed against his calves as she did so and he felt wildly embarrassed again.

She stopped when she reached his mid-thigh, her gaze still actively avoiding the parts of him that were still naked. "I think you can do the rest."

Pietro bent slightly at the waist and pulled the pants up the rest of the way. He stood straight and adjusted the lay of the shirt over the waistband of the pants.

Dr. Short's gaze returned to his face. "There. Not so bad."

Pietro's eyes left her face and glanced over at the bathroom. "I… don't know if I can walk all that way on my own." He felt heat rise in his cheeks again, but this time due to shame. He had never relied on anyone else before. Not even his sister. He _was_ twelve minutes older, after all. He was the big brother. He was the protector, the provider. The one _to_ be relied on. But he swallowed his pride and looked questioningly at Dr. Short.

"Ah," she said, "well, shall we?" She held out her arm like a gentleman escorting a lady to a dance.

Pietro accepted it, gripping it tightly. He had to lean his body weight into her side as she led him across the room to the bathroom. It wasn't very far, maybe ten feet. But for Pietro it was an agonizing journey. He should have been able to cross this distance in less than a nanosecond. But that was before. Now, it seemed like a lifetime before he finally reached the bathroom door. It was horrible for him.

Pietro leaned against the door frame while Dr. Short pushed the door open and flipped on the light. Exhausted just from that small trip, Pietro said nothing and entered the bathroom, closing the door behind him. It was just a few steps to the toilet and he was able to make them on his own, though his gait was unsteady.

As he did his business in the bathroom, he heard the 'whoosh' of his door opening. He heard the doctor exchange words with someone and then the 'whoosh' sounded again. Pietro finished up, washing his hands whilst leaning heavily on the sink. When he exited the bathroom, Dr. Short was waiting for him.

She smiled. "You must feel better."

He nodded for a fourth time.

"Let's get you back in bed," Dr. Short said. She offered her arm again and he took it.

After another agonizingly long trip across the room, Pietro was back at his bed. Dr. Short helped him get back into it and he pulled the sheet up to his mid-chest, settling back on his pillows.

Dr. Short pulled a capped syringe out of her lab coat. His pain meds, he surmised. That must have been the conversation he heard while he was in the bathroom.

"This'll make you sleepy," the doctor said. "But you'll feel better."

Pietro sighed in understanding. He was dizzy again and the pain in his back had spread around to his chest and down his arms and legs from all the activity. He could feel fresh blood wetting the bandages on his back.

Dr. Short gently straightened his right arm and wiped a spot on the inside of the bend of his elbow with an alcohol swab. She palpated a vein with warm fingers. Then, she raised the needle and pulled the cap off with her teeth. It was wildly unprofessional but it amused Pietro for some reason. He could tell she had done this many times before. She was in her element; comfortable and relaxed giving him his meds. The last time she had pricked him, he had been half out of it. But now Pietro was fully awake and it surprised him when he still didn't feel the prick of the needle. Dr. Short was very good at what she did. She depressed the plunger of the syringe and in an instant, Pietro felt the heaviness of sleep as the medicine coursed through his veins. He felt sleepy and a sort of numbness was spreading across him, starting in his chest. He watched as Dr. Short recapped the needle, not with her teeth this time, and placed it in the sharps container to his right.

"Now, Pietro," she said. "Sleep." She turned on her heels and he heard the 'clip-clop' of her shoes as she walked to the door. As it 'whooshed' open, he called out to her.

"Dr. Short," his voice was slurred and sleepy. "Thank you."

The doctor turned back to him and smiled. "Of course Pietro. No problem."

He was half asleep when she said the next thing.

"And call me Dr. Alex."

His eyelids closed and before he could hear the 'whoosh' of the door as it closed, he was asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Thanks for the review, favorites, and follows. I hope you enjoy! Please keep reading and review!**

Chapter 3: Examining the Wounds

Pietro's eyelids were heavy when he next awoke. Whatever pain medicine Dr. Short had given him must have been really strong. He felt like he had been asleep for days and he felt like he could still sleep for days. He managed to pry his eyelids open and blink sleepily as he looked around the room. He couldn't find a clock to tell him what time it was. And even if he had a clock, he had no idea what time it was when he fell asleep so it wouldn't be much use to him anyway. Pietro pushed himself into a sitting position. There was a dull ache along his back muscles but otherwise he felt fine. He knew this feeling wouldn't last though; the pain meds would wear off and he'd feel the sharp, searing pain down his back and into his shoulders and thighs again.

Blindly, Pietro tried to feel his back underneath his shirt. He wanted to know what was going on with his body. Pietro didn't remember being shot. But he remembered the pain. A blinding, agonizing pain. And then the blackness.

The 'whoosh' of the door to his hospital room distracted him from his exploration of his wounds. Pietro looked up to see Dr. Short entering the room with another individual dressed in white scrubs. Dr. Short had her long white coat on again, but the clothes underneath had changed. Instead of the black dress skirt, she wore pressed khaki pants, and instead of the purple blouse, a light pink sweater. So if she changed clothes, Pietro must have slept into the next day at least.

When she saw he was up, Dr. Short smiled. "Good! You're awake. How are you feeling?"

"Sleepy," Pietro said, his voice thick. "And thirsty."

Dr. Short gave a short, quiet laugh. "Well that's an easy enough fix, at least." She nodded to her scrub-clad companion; a younger woman who, at Dr. Short's nod, turned and hurried back out of the room, no doubt to fetch Pietro some fresh water.

Dr. Short, meanwhile, crossed the rest of the length of the room and sat at the foot of Pietro's bed.

"Dr. Short, how long," he said, "have I been asleep?"

"A little over 14 hours," she answered. "And I told you, call me Dr. Alexa."

Pietro nodded, just now remember the doctor's request before he had fallen asleep.

"My nurse, Holly, and I would like to change your bandages today. Check on how you're wounds are healing." Dr. Short, no Dr. _Alexa_ , continued. "You feel up to it."

Pietro nodded again. He wanted to see for himself why he was such a medical marvel. What kind of death bringing wounds had he survived?

By now, Holly, Dr. Alexa's nurse had returned. She set a fresh pitcher of water on Pietro's table and wheeled it over to his bed. He clumsily poured himself a glass and took a drink. He was still a little unstable from waking up from his coma just two days ago. When he was finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I want to see my back," he said.

Dr. Alexa bit her lip and Holly shot her a glance.

"Pietro," the doctor said slowly, "your back, your wounds. It's not pretty."

Pietro swallowed. "I know."

"Are you sure?"

Pietro took a breath. "Yes."

Dr. Alexa nodded slowly. "Alright. Very well. Let's… let's go to the restroom then. We'll change your bandages in there.

Pietro was a little nervous by how Dr. Alexa and her nurse were acting. How bad were his wounds, really, if they were so reluctant to let him look at them. But Pietro wanted to know what Ultron had done to him. He wanted to know what he saved Hawkeye from. He wanted to know what he had sacrificed himself for. He pulled aside his blankets and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was still anxious to try and stand on his own.

Holly had begun to head over, her arms reaching out as if to help him, but Dr. Alexa interrupted her.

"That's okay, Holly. I'll help Pietro. You take the fresh bandages and get the sink ready."

Holly paused and glanced from Pietro to Dr. Short. But she didn't argue. She gave a nod, grabbed an armful of supplies Pietro hadn't realized she brought in initially, and scurried off into the bathroom.

Dr. Alexa had come over to his bedside and held out an arm to help him into a standing position. Pietro put his feet on the floor, bracing himself against the doctor. He wobbled for a moment, but not as long as yesterday. Still, he was weak and he could only shuffle along a little bit at a time. He was still supported mostly by Dr. Alexa rather than by his own legs. He had to stop for a moment halfway across the room. Dr. Alexa said nothing the entire time and remained patient, holding on to one of Pietro's arms, her shoulder pressed against his own. Pietro grit his teeth and sighed, more so in frustration than in pain, but he could tell the pain meds were definitely starting to wear off now.

By the time they reached the bathroom, he had broken out in a sweat and his leg muscles were spasming. Holly had set out a sterile drape kit over the sink. Fresh bandages were laid out along with thin, metal medical scissors, antiseptic wash, gauze, a scalpel, and an empty vial who's Pietro wasn't sure of. When Dr. Short guided Pietro into the bathroom, Holly grabbed him by the other arm and helped him sit on the closed toilet. It was a tight fit with the three of them in the small room.

"Well," Dr. Alexa said, "Holly and I will remove your bandages and clean your wounds. I'll take a couple samples of the healing tissue to study in the lab. Then we'll stand you up and you can have a look in the mirror, yeah?"

Pietro nodded.

"Alright, let's get started then."

Pietro watched as Holly cleaned the scissors with an alcohol swab. When she was finished, she gestured with her hands, indicating Pietro should turn around. Twisting on the toilet, Pietro faced away from Holly and Dr. Alexa. From the corner of his eye, he could see Holly hand Dr. Alexa the scissors. The doctor vanished from his sight and he felt her thin cool fingers lift up his shirt.

"You know, it'll be easier if we take this off. Is that okay?"

Pietro nodded. Holly shuffled around to his front side in the cramped bathroom and helped him remove his shirt. The next thing he felt was Dr. Alexa's hands on his back, at the edge of his bandages. He let out a hiss of a breath when she slid the cold metal of the scissors between the thin space between his skin and the wrappings. She began to cut. She cut close to his side where he wasn't wounded.

Once she was finished cutting, Pietro heard a 'clank' as she set the scissors in a tray to be sanitized.

"Okay," she said, "this next part might hurt a little bit. Are you ready?"

Another nod.

Pietro felt two sets of hands at his back. Holly had grabbed the top portion of his bandages, Dr. Alexa the bottom. The two women began to gently tug the wrappings and the gauze underneath free. At first, it felt fine. But as they tugged towards the middle of his back, Pietro felt the skin pull. He felt wetness running down his skin as new blood trickled down his spine. He winced when they pulled directly over one of the bullet holes. And again when they passed another. And again. And again. When the bandages were pulled over the fifth wound, Pietro let out a gasp. At the sixth he grit his teeth and hissed in pain. After than he lost count.

Eventually, after what felt like agonizing hours but was only a few minutes, the bandages were free from his back. They wrapped around his chest too, but Dr. Alexa pulled that part free in one quick swipe. She balled up the used, bloody bandages, and handed them to Holly. Pietro was in too much pain to fully realize how bloody the back side of his bandages were. He sat on the toilet, breathing heavily. He was sweating again, this time cold sweat pouring down his forehead onto his face. He raised a shaky hand to his head and wiped what he could. His back was in searing pain and he felt like if he tried to move even an inch he'd collapse in a puddle on the floor.

Dr. Alexa brought her face in front of his. "I know you must be in pain. I would've given you some meds prior but I didn't want you to fall asleep. It's easier to change bandages with your cooperation.

Pietro nodded once again. His teeth were still clenched together. But he managed, "It's okay."

Dr. Alexa smiled sadly. "I know it's not."

He looked up and met her eyes. "I've… felt worse." He remembered the pain before the blackness. He remembered the day the shell hit his family's apartment building. He remembered the experimentation from the HYDRA scientists. It was true, he had felt worse. Many times. But still. This was bad. He took a deep breath and steadied himself. "I'm okay."

Dr. Alexa nodded. "Okay." She placed a hand on his knee and gave a reassuring squeeze. "Holly and I will try and finish quickly."

She stood and vanished from his line of sight again. Pietro closed his eyes while Dr. Alexa explained that they were going to clean his wounds next. He heard the bottle of antiseptic being poured onto gauze. Gently, a hand, he assumed Dr. Alexa's, place the wetted gauze against one of his wounds. He hissed through his teeth again. Why was something that was supposed to heal you so painful? Another hissed escaped his teeth when she moved to the next one. Pietro clenched his teeth tighter, sure he was cracking a molar. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced his breath out in long even breaths as Dr. Short continued, moving from one wound to the next, and the next, and the next.

This didn't seem to take as long as when she and Holly removed the bandages. Before he knew it, she said "All done."

Pietro relaxed and opened his eyes. He unclenched his jaw, and let out a long, slow breath of relief.

"Unfortunately," Dr. Alexa continued, "this next part will be the worst."

Pietro groaned.

"I'm going to take a sample from one of the wounds. The antiseptic will have numbed it a little, but I have to cut directly from the healing edge of the wound. The most sensitive area as your nerve endings are exposed. I'll be as quick as I can."

Pietro swallowed and took a breath. "Okay." He really didn't want Dr. Alexa to do it, but he knew she was studying his body's healing mechanisms. Seeing what was different about him. Why he survived. "Just, tell me before you do it."

"I will."

Pietro turned his head to watch while Dr. Alexa cleaned her scalpel. Meanwhile, Holly was reading the vial.

Dr. Alexa turned to Pietro and knelt down so she was level with one of the wounds on his back. He couldn't see what she was doing anymore, but her face was still in view. He felt her pull the skin taut at the edge of his wound. He winced.

She looked up at him, her face concerned. "I'm about to do it. Are you ready?"

"Yeah." Pietro closed his eyes and held his breath.

He felt the sharp pierce of the scalpel on his skin and it felt more like a thousand hot knives stabbing into his skin. His breath came out in a cry of agony. "Argh!" His eyes flashed open, the cold sweat running down his face again.

But just like that it was over. Less than a second. The pain was ebbing and he heard the snap of the vial closing.

"It's okay," Dr. Alexa said in a hurried voice. "It's okay. It's over. You're alright."

Pietro turned to face her. She had a worried expression on her face and was absentmindedly removing her gloves as she spoke, her eyes locked on his.

He panted and nodded. He saw Holly labeling the vial with a black Sharpie.

Dr. Alexa swallowed, seeming to need to calm herself. "Okay, we're finished. We just need to wrap you back up again. Are you sure you want to see your back still?"

Pietro was calming down now. His breathing was evening out, the sweat no long falling down his face. His back was still in pain and at the very center there was an even sharper twinge, where Dr. Alexa had taken her sample. He wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep. Let his mind numb to the effects of the pain meds and wake up feeling better in another 14 hours. Or longer. He didn't mind. He was exhausted.

But he nodded as he said, "Yes. I am sure."

Dr. Alexa nodded as well. "Okay." She held out an arm and helped Pietro into a standing position. Holly moved out of the small bathroom to give them room to shuffle over to the mirror above the sink. Dr. Short was in the doorway, facing Pietro who's back was to the mirror. He was gripping onto her forearms again and she held him firmly by the elbows.

"Okay," Dr. Alexa said again. "Turn your head around but don't twist too far. You'll pull your torn back muscles and stretch your wounds."

Pietro gave a single nod in understanding. He was careful to twist only at the neck as he turned his head around. His eyes found the mirror and the reflected image of his back. And he let out a gasp in shock. He was glad Dr. Short was holding him because if he had been holding himself up, he was sure his knees would have given out.

His back was a mess raw skin and bleeding open wounds. A few wounds were deep enough to expose muscle and tendon. There were at least a dozen bullet holes along his back. All were below his shoulders and above the line of his hips. He couldn't imagine how someone could be hit so many times, lose so much blood, and survive. But here he was. Standing. Looking at himself in the mirror and looking at the wounds that should have killed him. He stared, open-mouthed for a good minute before finally turning back around.

The doctor's eyes were on his face.

"Are you… alright?" She asked. He knew she wasn't asking about the physical pain this time.

He nodded numbly, not sure if he truly was alright.

Dr. Alexa studied his face, looked into his eyes for a moment. But he stared ahead blankly, not really seeing her face.

"Let's get you back in bed. We'll bandage you up there."

Another numb nod.

Pietro felt Dr. Alexa begin to pull him forward as she guided him back to his bed. The pain was now overwhelming but he hardly felt it; his mind so numb from the image of his back. Before he knew it, Dr. Alexa and Holly were practically lifting him into his bed. He felt sharp twinges of pain among the numbness as they began to reapply his bandages.

Pietro looked down at his chest while they did so. It was then that he noticed that there were no wounds on his chest. Only some areas of rough, pink scar tissue that corresponded with the gaping wounds on the other side of his body. This realization shocked him back to alertness and the pain washed over him again. He winced as the doctor's hands passed over a wound.

"Why," he said, "why aren't there wounds on my chest?" Surely, shots bad enough to cause his back to look like that had to have passed straight through his body and exited his chest. And he vaguely remembered Dr. Alexa saying something about punctured lungs when he had first awoke.

"That's one of the interesting things about you injuries and your healing," Dr. Alexa answered. "You're exit wounds healed first, and much more quickly. The entry wounds were more grievous and are healing at a slower rate, but still remarkably fast compared to the average human."

Pietro nodded. He winced again as Holly finished tightening the bandages at his side.

Dr. Alexa pulled another syringe from her pocket while Holly began cleaning up. "We're still studying your healing process. When we have it all figured out, we'll tell you."

She held out her hand for Pietro's arm. He turned his palm up and placed his hand in hers. Holly came over and quickly cleaned his inner elbow before Dr. Short slipped the needle into a vein.

"We'll talk more tomorrow. Maybe if you're up to it, we'll do some blood work and go over your vitals." Dr. Alexa pulled the needle out of Pietro's arm and Holly placed a simple Band-Aid over the injection site.

Pietro nodded and felt the comforting heaviness of the pain meds wash over him. His eyelids drooped and his arms and legs felt weak. The pain wracking his body was already easing. Dr. Short and Holly rolled him onto his stomach to sleep, to keep him from laying on his painful back.

"For now, rest." Dr. Alexa smiled at him before she turned and headed out of the room with Holly.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: I know it's been awhile... thanks for the reviews, follows, and favorites! This is kinda a filler chapter so if it's boring, I'm sorry. In this chapter italics means dreaming. I'm going solely off what we know from the cinematic universe so I don't know if Pietro becoming enhanced is canon. I hope you like! PS: Reviews make me write faster ;)**

Chapter 4: Fitful Sleep

For the first few hours after being rebandaged, Pietro was out like a light. His damaged body was overcome with such exhaustion, his mind couldn't even dream. But that didn't last. As the pain meds were absorbed by his rapidly repairing cells, the effect diminished and though Pietro's body still slept, his subconscious awoke….

" _You know, I'm twelve minutes older than you." He looked at his twin and gave a cocky smile._

 _Despite the destruction and devastation around them, she gave a small laugh and smiled back. "Just go."_

 _He lingered for a moment longer, watching his sister. Just weeks ago she never would have been this confident and self-assured. She turned away from him, taking her place standing above the core with red magic swirling around her fingertips. It still fascinated him; the powers HYDRA had given her. His enhancements made sense. Increased speed and physical stamina. But her's… he had no idea what that was. It scared him a little bit, though he'd_ never _tell her that._

 _With one last look at her, he turned on his heel and sped away._

He groaned in his sleep. That was the last time he saw his sister. Before he "died." And the last thing he would have said to her would have been "I'm twelve minutes older than you." She was all he had in this world and he was all she had. And now she thought him dead. In his sleep, Pietro's brow furrowed and he shifted positions. He was still sleeping on his stomach, not having the strength to turn over in his sleep.

… _.She screamed with such emotion, such raw pain, such agony. A heart wrenching scream that must have left her throat raw. She fell to her knees, unable to stand, the pain too much. An energy blast radiated outwards from her body, fueled by sheer heartbreak and rage. It obliterated everything within a 100 meter radius of her. Her body gave out and she slumped back on her feet, still kneeling amid the wreckage of Ultron sentries. Her hands dropped down on either side of her body and her head fell, chin resting against her chest. For a heartbeat she stayed like that, letting the soul consuming sadness wash over her. And then she lifted her head and opened her eyes. There was such a fierceness there, such fury, she looked like a completely different person. As her hands clenched into fists, her nails scrapped against the concrete. Scarlet red magic churned around her. With her jaw clenched, she rose to her feet. She was the embodiment of rage, barely controlled. She took a step and Heaven help whoever it was she was heading for._

With a strangled gasp, Pietro jerked up in bed. His skin was drenched in cold sweat and the stiff hospital bed sheet clung to his arms. He pushed himself up on his elbows and forced his breathing to even out. Pietro's heart thudded against his chest. He couldn't get the image of his sister's enraged expression out of his mind. He somehow knew this was his sister's reaction the moment he "died," even though he hadn't been there to see it. He supposed he was seeing this now through their twin connection that had been enhanced when Wanda had undergone the HYDRA experiments.

Once his heart rate slowed and his breathing returned to normal, he heaved himself over with his right arm and rolled onto his back. Pietro grit his teeth and let out a hiss as his back hit the bed's surface. The pain relieving effects of his meds was wearing off but he still felt sleepy and sluggish. But he couldn't go back to sleep with the image of his sister in pain in his mind's eye. So instead, he forced himself to look around his room. It was dark now, all the overhead lights had been shut off. The thin strip of lighting right above the head of his bed had been dimmed. There was a red glow above the 'whooshing' door to his room that was the exit sign. The temperature had been lowered also, making it physiologically ideal for sleeping. The room was quiet, the only sound being the soft 'hum' of the machinery around his bed, remotely monitoring his vitals.

With the cool, dark air and the rhythmic hum, Pietro felt his body relaxing back into sleep….

 _He had just received his last treatment. The blue glow of the scepter was still burned into his retina. They were escorting him back to his room, which was more like a cell. A soldier had to be on each side of him, each gripping his upper arm, supporting his weight. He was weak, so weak. And in pain. This was the only time he regretted volunteering for this project. He had screamed while they had subjected him to the scepter's power. His throat was still raw. As they dragged him through the halls, they passed his sister. She was walking of her own accord, the doctor leading her and a soldier trailing close behind. When he was level with her, he raised his head which took a great deal of effort. He felt panic gripping his chest, strangling his heart, making it hard to breath. He couldn't let his sister do this. He couldn't let her feel that pain. They were twins but he was the oldest. He had to protect her. He was the only one who could since their parents died. With a crazed look in his eyes, he met her gaze. It took every ounce of energy left in his body but he planted his feet on the floor and fought the forward movement of the soldiers. "Wanda! Don't! Don't do it!" His guards forced him on, pulling him off his feet. He stumbled forward but craned his neck to look behind him. Meanwhile, the soldier behind Wanda had taken her by the forearm and hurried her along down the hallway in the opposite direction with the doctor. Wanda looked around to meet her gaze, her eyes wide, but they forced her along. The next thing he knew, he was shoved unceremoniously into his cell and the door was slammed and locked behind him. He faltered, still week on his feet, and collapsed on his hands and knees on the hard, concrete floor. The pain and exhaustion over took him. He looked up at his cot of a bed, just a few feet away. It seemed like a mile. His arms shook and he fell flat on his stomach on the cold floor and passed out…. When he awoke, he felt a strange, incessant energy buzzing through his veins. He felt as if every muscle was itching to move. Every nerve felt hypersensitized. He felt restless and antsy; like he had to get up and move, run. He opened his eyes and pushed himself off the floor. He didn't know how long he slept but he was surprised that he wasn't at all sore or in pain, especially seeing as he had slept on the cold, concrete. He stood and felt stronger, more powerful. He still felt the impulse to move. He figured it was probably his muscles feeling stiff from laying on the floor. Even though he didn't actually_ feel _stiff. He decided to stretch his limbs, maybe jog in place for a minute and get his blood moving. He took one step and suddenly found himself on the other end of his cell. He blinked, confused. His cell was small, but not_ that _small. He took another step and was flung up against the opposite wall. Another step. He crashed into the small table beside his bed. Another. He moved with super human speed and smacked into the thick Plexiglass wall that allowed the scientists to observe him. That's when it came rushing back to him. His last painful, excruciating treatment with the scepter. The final treatment. They one that would solidify him as an enhance being with super human powers. He brought his hands up in front of his face and surveyed them. What had he become? What had they turned him into? He dropped his hands and looked at the wall to his left. The wall that separated him from his sister. What had happened to her?_

Pietro woke with a start. His vision was blurry and his limbs felt weak and heavy. The room was still dark and cool but something was different. There was someone standing over him on the right side of his bed. Blearily, he looked up into the face of the person beside him. She looked vaguely familiar but he was so sleepy he wasn't sure who it was. She smiled down at him and he realized she was holding his arm. He felt a slight poke and he had the hazy thought of someone giving him an injection of pain meds. He blinked once, his eyelids heavy, and on the second blink, he was asleep.

 _He felt a pain like he had never felt before. A raging fire across his back and chest, radiating down into his legs and across into his arms. His mouth felt like it was permanently clenched in a grimace of pain. His eyes were squeezed shut. His fingernails dug into the palms of his hand, breaking the skin. He felt the subtle trickle of warm blood down his wrists but that was nothing compared to the pain he was in. He just wanted it to stop. He wanted to go back asleep; fall back into the darkness from which he had awoken. But aside from the pain, there was a beeping. An annoying, persistent beeping that didn't stop. With each beep the sound seemed louder and shriller, driving him further away from the comfort of the darkness he was so trying to slip back into. He let out an agonized growl between his clenched teeth. The effort of even that small exertion caused the pain to flare stronger. The beeping intensified. But then, above that sound, he heard a voice._

" _Oh my God, he's awake!"_

 _Another joined it. "That's not possible."_

" _Look at the heart monitor. The brain activity."_

" _Oh God. Give him another dose of anesthetic. Double the first. STAT!"_

" _Double? But Dr. Short, that could kill him."_

" _He's different. Enhanced. He shouldn't even be alive right now. Double. Quick, before he comes to full consciousness and tries to move. He'll worsen his wounds if he does."_

 _There was a sharp prick at the nap of his neck. And then, thankfully, mercifully, the darkness engulfed him, the pain vanished, his mind numbed, he felt heavy, and he slept._

Pietro knew he was awake but he didn't want to open his eyes. So he laid there, listening to the ambient sounds of the medical facility. The occasional roll of a cart or hospital bed outside his door, the hum of machinery, the padding of footsteps, the muffled P.A. system in the hall. The temperature had also risen and someone had pulled his sheet up to his chin. He felt comfortable despite the dull throb in his back that reminded him of his wounds.

Pietro still felt exhausted; like he hadn't slept at all. His sleep had been plagued with nightmares of his past. Terrifying reminders of everything he had been through lately. He wanted to fall back asleep but through the skin of his eyelids, he could tell the lights in his room had been turned on. He had no idea what time it was but morning had obviously come.

And then his stomach growled audibly. He wondered how long it had been since he had last eaten. He wasn't sure.

Sleep or food? Pietro's brain debated this for awhile.

His stomach won out. Pietro pushed himself up in bed and opened his eyes. He wiped the sleep and sand from the corners and barely stifled a monstrous yawn. Looking around the room, all he saw was his water pitcher. He wound have to call someone to bring him something to eat.

Rather than turn at the waist and reach over his shoulder to the call buttons behind him, Pietro scooted in a circle on his bed until he had turned a little more than ninety degrees around. He didn't want to strain his already aching back muscles. Or break open one of his healing wounds.

Facing the call buttons, he once again had the choice between the red button which called a nurse and the purple button that called Dr. Alexa. Pietro's finger hovered in midair for a moment while he decided. He depressed the purple button. It lit up indicating the call had gone through. Now he had to wait.

Pietro wondered if he was annoying Dr. Alexa. He hadn't once called a nurse for something and all his requests had been something perfectly capable of a nurse; nothing that required a doctor. But for some reason he didn't want anyone else. He didn't trust anyone else. He still didn't really know where he was or what was going on or how exactly he was alive. But for some reason he couldn't quite explain, he felt comfortable with Dr. Alexa, he trusted her. She had a sort of aura about her that was calming and comforting. Something he couldn't help but trust.

A few moments later, the 'whoosh'ing of the doors signaled the doctor's arrival. Pietro shuffled around in his bed so he was once again sitting forward.

Dr. Alexa gave him a smile as she fully entered the room. "Well, you slept late," she said. "You must have been sleeping really well."

Pietro bit his lip. "Um, no, not really actually."

Dr. Alexa stopped at the foot of his bed and raised an eyebrow in question.

"I had a lot of nightmares," Pietro elaborated, feeling embarrassed.

He noticed that today, instead of her usual dress clothes and white coat, Dr. Alexa was wearing dark blue scrubs with the SHEILD logo on her breast pocket. He wondered why the change in attire. She perched herself at the very edge of his bed, barely sitting on the mattress. Rather than press him, for which he was thankful for, she said, "Well, it's nearly one in the afternoon so you got some much needed rest anyhow."

He nodded. Despite the fitfulness of his sleep, he did feel much better than he had the day previously.

Looking up into Dr. Alexa's face, Pietro asked, "Did you come in my room last night?"

Dr. Alexa nodded a bit sheepishly. "Yes. I just wanted to give you an extra dose of pain meds. You… you needed some good sleep after seeing your wounds yesterday. That's a lot to process."

She seemed uncomfortable so Pietro gave another nod rather than saying anything else. He was saved from further conversation by another loud growl of his stomach.

The smile returned to Dr. Alexa's face. "I'm assuming that's why you called me. Hungry?"

A third nod.

"Okay, give me a minute and I'll be back with some food." Dr. Alexa rose from the bed and headed towards the doors.

Suddenly feeling like he was treating her like a maid, Pietro said, "Thanks."

Dr. Alexa paused and turned back to him. "No problem," she said, "It's my job."

The words felt like a stab in the gut. He remembered his sister saying that to Hawkeye during the battle with Ultron. His nightmares came flooding back. He didn't want to think about his nightmares again. They left him with an overwhelming sense of guilt. Especially the one where he had seen his sister's pain the moment he "died." He didn't want to think about that. They were the only ones each other had. He didn't want to think about his sister thinking he was dead, not knowing he was alive. He didn't want to think about her alone and heartbroken.

Dr. Alexa returned a few minutes later with a tray of food. There was a plate piled high with fruit salad, what looked like a turkey sandwich, and celery sticks. Beside that was a small bowl of chocolate pudding and a glass of orange juice. Dr. Alexa set the tray on the movable table and rolled it in place over Pietro's lap. He devoured the entire meal in less than twenty minutes just to keep his mind off his dreams. Dr. Alexa sat at the foot of his bed while he ate and looked over the tablet that monitored his vitals. When he was finished and pushed the table away, she looked up at him.

"Well," she said, "you up for some blood work and going over your vitals?"


End file.
